


Accidents

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-06
Updated: 2006-04-06
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: When you're immortal, you can really play some head games.Highlander/Lunch With Charles: 	Cory Raines/Matthew





	Accidents

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

_"Accidents will occur in the best regulated families"_

_-Charles Dickens_

_-David Copperfield_

 

"But... really, officer, he was right here when I left."

 

Obviously unimpressed, the officer grunted skeptically. "If you say so, sir. Any idea as to where this dead body is now?"

 

Squinting into the darkness, Matthew looked helplessly at the heavy brush lining both sides of the road. "I... no. He *has* to be nearby, though. Maybe an animal dragged the body away."

 

"Without leaving any marks on the ground?"

 

"Yeah. I mean no. I mean... " Frustrated, Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "There must be some reasonable explanation for this," he mumbled. Bodies - dead bodies - didn't just disappear. And the man he'd run over not more than 45 minutes ago had definitely been dead. D-E-A-D.

 

"Sir... " the officer fixed him with an inquisitive look. "Have you had anything to drink tonight?"

 

"I don't drink liquor."

 

"Have you ingested any other substances?"

 

"You mean drugs?"

 

"Yes sir."

 

"No! I'm sober, officer. Honestly, I am."

 

"If you say so, sir."

 

Matthew thought longingly of the joint he wished he could smoke - the one that he'd taken from his car and placed carefully on the grass verge, beneath a handy piece of wood. If ever there was a time for smoking up, it was now.

 

He sighed.

 

"Look, officer, the guy was right there; see where the blood is? And he isn't there now. Maybe he crawled away to die. Don't you think we ought to look for him?" He frowned, a little annoyed that the officer didn't seem to be taking him seriously.

 

"We'll have a quick poke around," responded the lawman and flicked on a Maglite, preparing to vanquish the darkness in search of a body.

 

Twenty minutes later, they were back on the road again.

 

"I believe that you are saved this time, sir. Your victim would appear to have been a figment of your imagination." The policeman sniffed Matthew's breath once again, apparently wishing he could book him for drunken driving, then with a muttered caution about driving safely and not wasting the cops' time, the defender of public order climbed into his blue and white, and pulled smoothly away.

 

Watching the car out of sight, Matthew headed over to find the joint he'd hidden and lit it, taking a long drag and letting the smoke calm him as he drew it down into his lungs.

 

He was heading back to his own car, and had just put his hand on the handle when he heard a sound.

 

"Oooooooohhhhhhh!"

 

Looking around, Matthew twitched nervously. The voice seemed eldritch and other-worldly; he didn't immediately see the person from whence it came.

 

"Oooohhhhhhhhoooooohhhhhh!"

 

It was louder this time, and sounded much closer.

 

"Woooohhhhh," moaned the voice.

 

Looking up, he saw a face, apparently floating above him, framed by the leaves of the old oak tree beside the road. It was bloody and hideous, and it was screaming.

 

Matthew fainted.

 

***

 

Once he'd recovered from his fit of hysterics, Cory approached the unconscious body. As he waited for his victim to show signs of recovering, the immortal prankster grinned widely. This one showed great possibilities of being just what Cory needed to bring him out of the boredom and depression from which he'd been suffering of late.

 

Damn, this guy was pretty. Very pretty. The fact that the man looked enough like him to be his twin only added to the attraction. False modesty had never been one of Cory's faults.

 

The unconscious man twitched. Moaned.

 

Moving quickly, Cory backed away and climbed into the roomy rear seat of the beat-up Crown Vic that had so recently run him over. He curled up on the floor and pulled a ratty blanket over himself. Then he waited, gleefully anticipating the reaction he'd get when he loomed over his doppelganger in the darkness of night. Assuming, of course, that the guy got them a room for the night. If not... well, he could - and would - improvise as the situation demanded.

 

Coming to at last, Matthew sat up and shook his head. "The tree," he croaked, peering up at the branches above his head. "Damn it, Matthew. Get a grip. You're starting to imagine things." He looked around, discovered his joint still smoldering away on the pavement, and grabbed it thankfully. A few drags later it was gone, and he was feeling almost human again.

 

"Okay, Matthew, let's get this show on the road," he murmured to himself, feeling nicely buzzed. He pulled open the door of the car and clambered in, the dodgy hinges making the job of closing it behind him laborious in the extreme. The springs in the seat had gone, and Matthew was sitting on a pillow that permitted him to see over the dash and along the hood of the vehicle, which had most definitely seen better days.

 

Starting the car, he pulled away from the side of the road and past the place where the fetch - or whatever it had been - had stepped out in front of him.

 

"No way am I going to reach Princeton tonight," he growled. "I'll be lucky if I reach Abbotsford." Checking his watch, Matthew moaned. "Okay, motel hell coming up," he muttered, and shortly after pulled in to the parking lot in front of a motel that proclaimed clean rooms with satellite TV.

 

Sighing again, he climbed out of his iron steed and stomped off to put his name on a room.

 

Wearily, Matthew trudged upstairs to his room, which was on the third floor. Of *course* there was no elevator. Then, naturally enough, the key didn't work. The door stubbornly refused to open despite his best efforts, so he was forced to make his way back to the front desk. After a long discussion about how yes, the key should work, yes, he did know how a key worked, and, yes (god-fucking-dammit), he was sure he'd been at the correct door, the clerk finally handed over another key.

 

Thankfully this one worked. Too weary even to consider a shower, much less a change of clothing, Matthew collapsed onto the lumpy mattress. He pulled the bedspread over himself, grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head, then fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

Figuring that an hour was long enough to wait, Cory stealthily made his way into the room. He stood over the sleeping figure, studying it with fascinated eyes. It really was uncanny, this resemblance between them.

 

Not that he would let that interfere with his fun...

 

He checked the name on his target's license and carefully studied the various cards stuffed into the man's - Matthew's - wallet. Then he walked back to the bedside and bent down to whisper softly, "Oh Maaathewww."

 

"Mmmph."

 

"Oh, Matthew. We have matters to discuss, friend."

 

As soon as the man showed signs of waking, Cory retreated into the darkest corner of the room.

 

"Go, 'way, Tasha," mumbled the lump beneath the bedspread. "Got a headache."

 

"Maaathewww..." Cory called again, watching ecstatically as the lump heaved, and a disheveled head appeared from the covers.

 

"What the fuck?" The voice was sleep-thick, but somewhat alert. "Who's there?"

 

"Just a sad little ghost, Matthew," said Cory in a sibilant whisper.

 

"Jeez!" Matthew seemed to be shaking off the treacherous chains of sleep. "Tired. Need rest."

 

"Maaaathewwwww!" The groan that Cory emitted was gut-wrenching, and Matthew reacted immediately.

 

"Go away or I'll fucking kill you!" With that, he dragged the covers back over his head in a decisive manner, and Cory snickered to himself. That was way too good to let go.

 

"You did that already, Matthew. You fucking killed me. That's what we need to talk about."

 

Matthew sat bolt upright at that point, and Cory stepped forward so that his face could be seen, still covered in dried blood.

 

For a moment, Matthew merely gaped, frozen in place as sleep fled him, possibly never to return. Then he uttered a teeny squeak and attempted to render himself invisible by diving back beneath the bedclothes.

 

"That's not going to work, Matthew, my dear. Want me to get in bed with you, or what?" Cory, snickering softly, moved forward and sat down on the end of the bed. "Okay. Now let's discuss my dead body, currently in need of decent burial. What do you intend to do about it?"

 

"Do?" Matthew repeated incredulously. "How the hell am I supposed to *do* anything when your body vanished without trace? And get the hell away from my bed!"

 

"Oh dear. First you kill me, then you abandon my body, and now you reject me? I'm crushed, Matthew. Really, I am." Mournfully shaking his head, Cory trained sad green eyes on the man currently grinding his teeth in mingled fear and frustration. It was plain that he was starting to think there had been something extra in the joint he’d smoked earlier.

 

"Why me?" Matthew groaned, pulling both pillows over his head.

 

"Kismet, fate, destiny... all of the above?"

 

"Fuck! I just *had* to run over a smart-assed, sarcastic, sadistic sonofoabitch, didn't I?"

 

"Oh, you say the *nicest* things! Stop before you inflate my ego."

 

Matthew snorted, throwing pillows and bedspread aside to glare at the man still seated on his bed. "I... I really don't think your ego can possibly become larger."

 

"I learned long ago that there's always room for improvement, gorgeous."

 

"*Don't* call me that! It's... disturbing."

 

"Don't call me this, get off of my bed, go away - you're terribly demanding, my dear. After all, considering that you *killed* me, one would think you'd be a bit more pleasant."

 

"I've had a very bad day," said Matthew, petulantly. "And I'm tired." He sighed, looking doleful amongst the ravaged bedclothes. The absurdity of sitting, complaining to a vengeful spirit seemed to have completely passed him by. "And you look horrible. If you're determined to haunt me, the very least you could do would be to wash your face; you're covered all over with blood and... and... stuff."

 

"Probably my brains," responded Cory in sepulchral tones. "I felt them leaking down my nose after my skull cracked open." He smiled sadly. "But tell me, how do you suppose a ghost can wash his face? I'm dead, remember? You killed me."

 

"Will you for fuck's sake shut up about that?" Matthew's howl was rewarded by a bang on the wall and a yell of, 'Keep it down!' "You talk as if I meant to kill you. If you hadn't just wandered out in front of me at the last minute, I'd have been able to avoid you."

 

"That's all right for you to say," said Cory with a grin. "But speaking as the injured party, I say that it makes no appreciable difference whether or not you meant to do it. The fact is, I am dead, spread across several hundred yards of highway, my gizzard hanging out for the crows to peck at. I ask you, is that nice?"

 

"That's so totally not fair!" Matthew's voice was getting louder again. "We looked for your body, and I didn't see your fucking gizzard anywhere. You'd disappeared." He paused for a moment and then frowned, much struck by something. "What the hell is a gizzard, anyway? Do I have one?"

 

"Details, details," Cory chided. "The important thing is that you-"

 

"Killed you. Yes, I *know* that. I want to know how you managed to disappear, you being dead and all."

 

Cory grinned. "You don't really expect me to reveal the secrets of the universe on such short acquaintance, do you?"

 

"Yes, dammit!"

 

"Sucks to be you, my friend."

 

"You... you... In the first place, we are *not* friends. In the second... God*damn*, what the hell is going on? Why are you here? *How* are you here? And, what the fuck is a gizzard?"

 

"A gizzard is a thickened part of the alimentary canal in some animals that is similar in function to the crop of a bird."

 

"Well thank you Mr. Webster!"

 

"You asked," Cory said simply.

 

"Uh huh. I asked several other questions too."

 

"Mmm, yes, you did."

 

"So answer them, dammit!"

 

"You're cute when you're frustrated and impatient, Matthew."

 

"Oh, yeah, and you'd know, wouldn't you?" Matthew sniffed, huffily. "Frankly, as ghosts go, you're pretty much a wash. You're disgustingly filthy and rude, and not even slightly scary. Actually, now I look at you, you look just like me. How weird is that?"

 

"What do you mean, I'm not even slightly scary? Watch this...." Cory fumbled in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a penknife. Pointing to it in a histrionic fashion, he suddenly ripped his shirt open and drew the blade across his chest so that the blood spurted from him, spattering Matthew as he yelped and scooted backwards.

 

Laughing, Cory watched him back up until he collided with the wall, as blue, flickering lightning around the wound he'd inflicted on himself heralded the completion of healing. "See? How do you feel now?" Cory, his once white shirt drenched now with red, grinned like a fiend. "Sorry about the bed, by the way, but it's a pretty crappy motel. You didn't really want to come back here again, did you?"

 

Matthew, white as a sheet now, was opening and closing his mouth as though his voice had somehow deserted him. Cory eyed him for a moment or two and moved smoothly closer to the poor man. Pushing his face up close, he said, "Boo!"

 

Moaning, Matthew closed his eyes and attempted to levitate.

 

"Go away. I'll go back and bury your gizzard if you go away and let me sleep."

 

Despite his best effort, Matthew simply could not retreat into the wall, even when Cory leaned in to whisper, "But I'm having such fun, my pretty."

 

Cory's eyes flew open to stare in amazement at... whatever one called a disappearing, reappearing, odorous, dirty ghost. "Your *what*?" Truly irritated now, he raised his hands to the other whatever-the-hell's shoulders and shoved. Hard. "I am not your anything, dammit!"

 

"Oh," Cory said admiringly. "A feisty one. I do so love that in a man."

 

"Now look, not only are you dead, you could be my twin, if you weren't so filthy... and that's just sick."

 

A huge sigh and downcast eyelashes greeted Matthew's statement.

 

"Don't give me that look! I invented that look."

 

"You're funny. I like that in a mortal. Funny mortals always taste so much better when I suck out their souls." Cory gave a sepulchral chuckle and rose to his feet. "Okay. Shall I start the soul-sucking stuff right away, or do you need a few moments to pray or something?"

 

Matthew was completely panic stricken by this time and, for a moment, all that could be heard were strangled gasping sounds, evocative of the kind of soul-sucking that Cory had proposed. Then, suddenly he realized something.

 

"You... you're as solid as I am."

 

He frowned. There was something here that was not quite right. "You bastard!" he growled, and launched himself at his tormentor.

 

 

Cory hadn't expected the attack, and, as Matthew caught him solidly, the two of them were borne off the bed, landing - Matthew uppermost - with a meaty thump that knocked the breath from Cory’s body.

 

"I'm going to kill you," growled Matthew.

 

"You already did, moron," sneered Cory, once he could speak.

 

"Oh, fuck," whispered Matthew, pulling away and looking miserable.

 

The two stared at each other for a long moment, Cory still flat on the floor and Matthew kneeling beside him. As Cory attempted to rise to a sitting position, with much moaning and gasping, Matthew scrambled to his feet and backed away.

 

"Gotcha!" Cory said gleefully.

 

"You... you... What the hell are you, anyway?"

 

"Ah-ah, we've already agreed that I'm not going to give you the secrets of the universe." Cory raised his eyebrows. "Remember?"

 

"*I* agreed to nothing of the sort!"

 

With a careless shrug, Cory declined to respond. "You know I can actually hear you grinding your teeth?"

 

"Oh... go wash your face. If I can touch you, you can wash off all that... gore."

 

"For you, my sweet, I will make myself lovely." Cory rose to his feet and swaggered off towards the bathroom. "And when I return, we'll discuss that whole thing where I suck out your soul, if you like."

 

Matthew was dressed and about to leave the motel room when Cory returned from his ablutions.

 

"I thought so," he said as his hand seized the collar of the departing Matthew and hauled him back into the room, yelping. "I've got a sixth sense about these things. It goes with being dead."

 

 

"For heaven's sake, just leave me alone, you moronic, annoying, irritating...."

 

"...ghost?" finished up Cory, grinning toothily. "Come on. How can I haunt you properly if I leave you alone? It completely contravenes the first rule of haunting. Nope. I'm sorry. You're going to have to think of something much more sensible."

 

"Look, man... I don't know who you are, and I don't know why you need to haunt me, but don't you think we could talk about this like two reasonable... uh... things?" Matthew seemed to slump. He was not only running out of ideas, he expected to have his soul sucked out at any moment. "I kinda like my soul. What would you do with it anyway?"

 

Head cocked to one side, Cory considered the matter. Then, with a positively wicked glint in his eyes, he smiled toothily. "We-ell, we could... Nah, you'd never go for that."

 

"Go for what?" Matthew asked suspiciously.

 

"Forget it, friend. You're far too straight-laced to even consider it."

 

"I am *not* 'straight-laced'." Deeply offended, Matthew glared at Cory. "I'll have you know that... Shit! Why am I even arguing with you? You... whatever you are. Just tell me your idea. Can't be too awful - definitely better than being haunted by you and your dreadful sense of humor."

 

"Okay, fine. But," Cory warned mock seriously, "what I tell you cannot leave this room."

 

"Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever. Just. Tell. Me."

 

Rising to his feet, Cory offered Matthew a hand up. "If we fuck, I go away. Never to haunt you again."

 

"You want to fuck? Me? What are you? Some kind of incubus?" Matthew rummaged through the shards of his very shaky memory for information about incubi and their evil habits. "How do I know that you won't suck my soul out of my dick if I say yes?" He had both hands now protectively cupping his groin as he spoke and, after a moment, Cory lowered his own hand, grinning as he studied the effect he was having on his victim.

 

"That's a very good question," he responded. "You don't. That's part of the fun - taking the risk. Besides, at the very least, you get a really good orgasm out of it."

 

"I..." Matthew frowned. There was something wrong with the logic of this, but he wasn't sure what it was. "Are you sure you're not just messing with me? You don't really want to... I mean, you're a guy, and I'm a guy, and... well, I hate to break it to you, but we don't quite have it in the plumbing department."

 

"My poor, dear, innocent child," said Cory, reaching to tug at Matthew's shabby, blue Henley. "You shouldn't let that kind of thing stand in the way of a good time."

 

"You're warped," objected Matthew, feebly batting at the fingers that were attempting to remove his clothing. "Get off. No..."

 

The Henley came off, leaving him in a T-shirt that advertised "My Little Pony." He blushed. "It... it was one of Natasha's nighties," he said, sheepishly.

 

"Well, judging by the fact that you're wearing what I assume is you're ex's shirt, I'd wager that you haven't moved on. Which means you seriously need to get laid." Cory snickered and continued, "Lovely as you look in pink, and considering the subject of that shirt, I suspect that you just might be a closet case."

 

"You're not warped," Matthew sputtered. "You're insane."

 

"Of course I am; death does that to a man, you know. Makes him really horny too."

 

Dodging Cory's attempts to relieve him of his T-shirt, Matthew muttered under his breath as he did his best duck and weave, "Just my luck, haunted by a crazy-horny-gay-incubus-ghost."

 

"Ah!" Cory tossed the shirt over one shoulder and made a move for the button on Matthew's jeans.

 

"Hold it *right* there," Matthew yelled, clutching the waist of his pants protectively. "Give me one good reason I should let you do this."

 

"Oh, I'll give you several. One, I won't go away if you don't. Two, you have *no* idea what you've been missing, restricting your sex partners to women. Three, we'll be gorgeous together."

 

"So... you won't go away if I don't let you fuck me?" Matthew asked, completely ignoring the second and third of Cory's dubious reasons.

 

"I never specified who would be fucking whom. As I'm in a generous mood, you can choose," Cory offered magnanimously.

 

The concept made Matthew wince, even as he felt himself becoming aroused. "You're kidding. I've never... I mean, I don't..." He quivered as Cory swooped closer to him. "I don't..."

 

 

"Ah, well, I wouldn't worry about that. Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it..." Cory laughed and tweaked at the seat of Matthew's jeans, then as hands flew to protect his ass, Cory sneakily unfastened the button and heaved on the zipper. "What will it be? Winnie the Pooh undies? Pink lacy thong? Oh, Matthew, how disappointing."

 

 

Matthew was wearing a pair of pale blue silk boxers, and as the jeans reached his knees, he seemed to give up the fight to stay clothed. "You can be disappointed if you like. I happen to find them very comfortable."

 

"I see that," said Cory, grinning as he eyed Matthew's dick's attempt to fight its way out of his underwear. "I 'm finding them strangely compelling, myself." He reached out to cup the swelling bulge, and caused Matthew to pretty near stand on his toes.

 

"Holy God!" he shouted, and was rewarded by a thumping on the wall from the next room.

 

"My name is Cory. But you may call me God if you wish."

 

"Jesus," Matthew moaned.

 

Cory smiled. "I'll answer to that, too," he said. Then, before Matthew could take defensive action, Cory removed his boxers.

 

With a yelp, Matthew tried to shove that irritating and strangely intriguing hand away from his groin.

 

Cory smiled ever so sweetly and shook his head. "I have plans for this. Great plans. And, I know that you don't really mind. Not with that woody!"

 

"I hate you."

 

"Mmmhmm. I'm sure you do. Now. Later, though, you'll like me well enough. Well, you'll at least like what I can do for you. Now, you have a choice to make. Wanna be the pitcher or the catcher?"

 

"Excuse me?" Matthew blanched. "You're making no sense, man... er... spirit... thing." He batted at Cory's hand again, but without much of an intent to remove it. It was doing things to him that made it rather difficult to focus on anything except the tingles coursing through him. "Suppose I tell you I want to be a pitcher, then what do I do, toss you out of the window?"

 

"Well, okay, my man, let's just say that you're going to pitch. You'll need this to be nice and hard, won't you?" Cory gave a little squeeze and a twist that made Matthew yelp.

 

"See? That's how it works, as I'm sure you've already discovered." He grinned. "And I can show you a way to make it work even better, if you like."

 

 

"I...I..." Matthew didn't articulate his reply. He didn't have time. Cory had slipped down Matthew's trembling body and taken his cock into his mouth, engulfing it in a hot, sucking maelstrom. "Ahhh!"

 

The faint scream made Cory chuckle as he applied himself to the velvety head of the tasty morsel he was working on. "The name is Cory, as I told you already. You can call my name out whenever you like." He licked the ridge around it, daintily flicking with a practiced tongue. "It's coming along, but I think it ought to be harder than this."

 

"Harder?" Matthew's eyes goggled. "I don't think that's possible," he croaked. "And besides, if I don't sit down, I'm going to fall over."

 

Cory shifted back, releasing Matthew's cock to smirk up at him. "By all means, sit."

 

Suppressing his moan of dismay at the loss of the lovely treatment from Cory's outstandingly nimble tongue, Matthew headed for the chair by the window, moving somewhat shakily.

 

"No, no, pretty thing. Get on the bed. Wouldn't want you to have to move later, would we? And we *will* need the bed. Unless, of course, you prefer to fuck me against the wall. Or leaning over the dresser. Or in the shower..."

 

"Um... I... think..."

 

"Bed it is, then," Cory said cheerfully. "This first time, anyway."

 

"First time?" Matthew repeated weakly.

 

"Trust me, you'll *want* more. I know I will."

 

"But you said-"

 

Grinning lasciviously, Cory backed Matthew backwards towards the bed until his knees caught against it, and he had no choice but to sit. "I say a lot of things."

 

"But..."

 

"I've never yet had a complaint, Matthew. Not in this area. I'd offer you references, but unfortunately I have none with me."

 

"But..."

 

"Okay, okay. We fuck once; if you say no more, then that'll be it."

 

Matthew had only just managed to agree, when that mouth - that warm, wet, talented mouth - swallowed his cock to the root.

 

He screamed. Their neighbor thumped loudly on the wall again. Cory swallowed again, causing another scream, this one even louder. Their neighbor's door slammed shut. No doubt the occupant was on his way down to request another room.

 

It had been a while since anyone had gone down on Matthew, and he couldn't ever remember a mouth as skilled as the one that was busily sucking his brains out through the hole in his cock right at this minute.

 

"God, that's wonderful," he moaned, and then froze. "You aren't sucking my soul out too, are you? You told me you wouldn't."

 

"Don't be so fucking silly," mumbled Cory, busy with his objective of driving Matthew out of his mind. "Your soul doesn't come out of this end. Where did you learn your anatomy?"

 

 

There seemed little left to say, and very little breath with which to say it. Matthew gave himself up to the tugging and sucking that was making him feel so very good. When Cory drew away, he moaned. "You stopped."

 

"Time for phase two. I know I'm ready. How about you?" Cory was undressing as he spoke, and, despite Matthew's whimper of fear, he hopped onto the creaking bed and straddled him. "Okay. You're pitching. Brace yourself!"

 

"Wait!" Matthew protested, eyes wide. "Don't we uh... need some kind of... you know?"

 

"Pretty *and* intelligent. I like that in a man." Climbing off of the bed, Cory headed to the bathroom. "Don't you move, now. I'll be back in a jiff."

 

Returning with a complimentary bottle of lotion, Cory snickered when he saw that Matthew had managed to drag the bedspread over himself. "While your modesty is endearing, I much prefer you without the drape." So saying, he pulled the spread out of Matthew's hands and shoved it to the floor. "Much better," he purred, resuming his position astride Matthew's hips.

 

Eyeing the lotion suspiciously, Matthew frowned. "I was referring to protection. You know? A condom?"

 

"Not to worry. I'm dead, so I certainly can't infect you with any dread disease. By the same token, you can't give me anything - aside from a great deal of pleasure, of course."

 

"Um."

 

"Matthew, I absolutely trust that you've always been safe. Since you'll be fucking me, the worry - if there was any reason to worry - would be mine. And, worry is the very last thing on my mind right now."

 

"Oh." Teeth nibbling his lower lip, Matthew studied the ceiling with great interest. "I don't know... I mean I've never... What if I hurt you?"

 

"You won't. You couldn't possibly hurt me. I'll talk you through it. I'm a very good teacher."

 

Lotion - cool at first, and then warm on his cock, convinced him that Cory knew what he was talking about. The hand on him was expert and found little things to do to him that made him squirm. When it pulled his cock back and placed it at the entrance to Cory’s ass, Matthew opened his eyes very wide, and as Cory sat down on him he performed a very creditable abdominal exercise.

 

"Oh, God!" he gasped.

 

"You rang?" the teasing voice so like his own was full of laughter. The hands that had made him feel so good were tweaking his nipples now, tracing circles over his chest, along his thighs, anywhere that they could find. Matthew felt as if he would explode.

 

"I'm going to come," he groaned.

 

"Not yet, you aren't," said the voice, sweetly. A swift constriction at the base of his balls made him yelp, and then Cory began to rock backwards and forwards onto him, and he knew that he had died himself and gone to heaven.

 

"Jesus!"

 

"Yes, dear?" Cory smiled widely as he squeezed his anal muscles.

 

"Aaah! You... shit!... are... My God, how do you *do* that?"

 

"Many years of practice."

 

"Fuck! Do it again. Now!"

 

Cory stopped moving, fully seated on Matthew. His nimble fingers twisted each of Matthew's nipples, then he nodded. "Just let me..." Tilting his hips just so, he groaned when pressure on his prostate sent pleasure singing through his body. "There we go."

 

Confused as to why Cory was just sitting there - not, mind you, that the man's ass wasn't the tightest, warmest place his cock had ever been - Matthew closed his hands around Cory's hips. And lifted.

 

Whoa boy! That was good. Really, really good. Strangely, some hidden corner of his mind was admiring the expression on his 'twin's' face and worrying about finding himself attractive.

 

The smile on Cory's face grew wider. His movements grew steadily more frantic, and Matthew could do nothing but go along with him, move in sync with the insistent rhythm.

 

Breath became short; movement became increasingly spasmodic as their bodies moved together.

 

Sweat broke out on both men, and despite Matthew's lack of experience, it was Cory who came first, groaning and arching back as he let fly with his load, white droplets of pearly come spattering over Matthew and his uncomfortable bed.

 

 

The feeling that shot through Matthew as Cory's ass began to clench and release around his dick was enough to bring him over the edge. The flood of release that shot through him could not be denied. His body gave it up, and he came, moaning his pleasure profanely and very loudly.

 

When Cory dropped down to kiss him, it no longer seemed weird to have his double's mouth pressed to his, tongue exploring his mouth. Matthew sighed softly and encircled Cory's neck with his arms.

 

"Well?" Cory said, once they broke off the kiss.

 

With a sated smile, Matthew sighed happily.

 

"I take it you weren't disappointed."

 

Matthew stretched languidly. "Disappointed? No... no, that was... you were... "

 

"I aim to please, kind sir."

 

"I think it's safe to say that you succeeded."

 

Cory nodded with no small amount of pride. "Practice makes perfect," he said with a mischievous grin.

 

"If we hadn't made that agreement about you leaving me alone if we fucked, I'd suggest more practice. After all, *I* have a lot of practicing to do."

 

"Well... I happen to know a very good teacher. Of course we'd have to renegotiate our agreement."

 

"We could, couldn't we?" Matthew cleared his throat. "How long can you stick around? I mean... we wouldn't want to have to stop my education before you've taught me everything I need to know..."

 

"I'm what you might call a free agent, beautiful. I'll be here for a while." He rolled over and draped his body across Cory's. "Longer that you might think, actually. Much longer."

 

Matthew couldn't help wondering at the melancholy tone Cory used, but he decided not to ask why. They were tired, sated and deliciously satisfied at this moment. All he wanted was to sleep. Sleep with a warm body beside him. Whoever, whatever, this Cory might be, Matthew had a feeling - a strong feeling - that this was one education he'd not tire of any time soon.

 

Maybe not ever.


End file.
